


i would hate you (if i could)

by rosewritings



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Jarchie - Freeform, M/M, Slow Burn, angsty archie, angsty jughead, here we are, i didnt mean to make this another 'adopted by the andrews' fic but, mentions of grundy :(
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 01:14:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10205579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosewritings/pseuds/rosewritings
Summary: I’ve been hearing things from people that I don’t want to talk to, like it matters who you’re sleeping with now.Can I erase from my mind anything that you said or any time that we spent with each other?~Archie and Jughead kiss and makeup. Hold the kissing. Maybe.





	

**Author's Note:**

> title is from "i would hate you if i could" by turnover. it's insp by this song but v v loosely
> 
> bolded sections are texts
> 
> ~

_10:15 AM_

**archie** sorry jug… can’t do this weekend. maybe we can road trip another time 

_Archie’s thumb sent the text in a heated rush as he continued to run his other hand through Ms. Grundy’s hair. Her glasses had been knocked off ages ago, Archie being pinned between her legs as they feverishly kissed in the morning light. Her bed squeaked under their weight as they continued. Long, sweet moans poured out of Archie’s music teacher’s mouth into his like syrup._

Maybe Jughead wouldn’t have been so angry about Archie’s sudden need to cancel their fourth of July weekend road trip if Archie hadn’t cancelled _literally_ 15 minutes before they were supposed to leave. His blood ran cold, despite the blazing heat of Riverdale in early July, with an anger that he’d never felt before. Archie was his friend, best friend, and unless there was some sort of emergency, Jughead really could not think of any good reason why he’d cancel on a road trip they’d been planning since they were in the eighth grade. 

Read: 10:17 AM  
**jughead** oh. ok. is everything alright? 

Read: 12:54 PM  
**archie** yeah, all good. sorry again 

Jughead slid into his booth at Pop’s, dropping his bag full of his whole life onto the seat beside him. He pulled out his laptop, asking just for a simple black coffee before attempting to pour his feelings onto a document. He was angry, and the energy needed to be used for something other than brooding about his sudden dissatisfaction for Archie. 

As much as Jughead tried to write, he couldn’t. The only thing that Jughead could think about were the times where they would lay in Archie’s bed with maps, drawing circles around cities that they’d never heard the names of. They’d calculated how many miles, how many hours, how many days. Sixteen seemed like eons away, and they had both figured that by this time, by July of this year, they’d be able to embark on the road trip of their dreams. Just the two of them, two best friends and a road straight out of this suffocating town, to the coast. Jughead imagined warm sand and neon hotel signs, mixed in with the sounds of Archie’s laughter in the driver’s seat. Now, though, those memories were running away.

Jughead can’t do much of anything except go back to the drive-in and lay in his cot, taking his black coffee to go. He sits in the movie house all day, away from the sun, allowing his heart to feel hollow and shadowed. He watches all of his favourite movies, but there’s really nothing that could make Jughead even crack a smile. Not the way his smile would be if he was in Archie’s car, windows down, listening to music and singing at the top of his lungs. 

In the evening, his anger mixes with his sadness, and he curls up in his small, uncomfortable bed. Before he knows it, sobs coursed their way through him. He feels every inch of himself overfill with emotion, saddened mostly by his best friend betraying him in a way he had never imagined. _What would make Archie abandon him like this? What would possess Archie to leave his best friend, essentially, by the side of the road?_

Before he can think about it for much longer, he forces himself to fall asleep. That’s enough for one day.

~

Archie does feel bad. Truly. Kind of.

He probably should feel worse, considering that him and Jughead are best friends. But, he also knows that this is the first weekend he’s had off since he started working with his dad over the summer, and that Geraldine had proposed a morning drive to Sweet Water River on July fourth. And well, Archie feels something warm and deep in his gut for Geraldine. It could be slightly exaggerated, because Archie likes the feeling of doing something wrong, but it’s exciting nonetheless. He thinks there’s something between the two of them. A spark, if you will.

**jughead** you free any time this weekend? even if we can’t go on a road trip, we could still hang out  
**jughead** or whatever 

**archie** working all weekend 

**jughead** alright 

Their text conversations mirrored this template for the following weeks to come. Every time Jughead would reach out to Archie, Archie would shut him down. _I’m working. I’m with my dad. I have plans._

It was getting to weigh on Jughead’s psyche, as much as he wished it wouldn’t. He wished he had other friends. He wished there were more people that liked him. He wished Betty hadn't left for the whole summer, because at least he could bother someone else. Normally, he couldn’t care less about how many people chose to spend their time with him. Normally, the vastness of the summer stretched out before him would look like an opportunity rather than a death sentence. 

He stopped reaching out to Archie. He always got the feeling that when Archie read his texts, he was rolling his eyes and wishing Jughead would just fade into the darkness. He assumed that Archie had grown out of their friendship, and Jughead felt stupid for thinking that Archie was going to be his friend forever. Something deep inside was nagging at Jughead, insisting that this day was inevitable. He had heard whispers around town that Archie was going to be quarterback in their fall term, and that he was set for a possible full ride scholarship in the city. Jughead was just a lonely kid, writing a novel that would never be published, or probably even read by anyone else. He wasn’t up to Archie’s caliber anymore.

~

The summer is longer than it should be. The only thing Jughead does is sit in Pop’s during the day, sit by the river when he can find enough change to take the bus, or hang out around the record store and make small talk. He fantasizes about better times, and sits on park benches for hours just to sketch or read old books that he had found on the shelves of the drive in office. 

He's not at peace with Archie, even after the initial incident had time to settle. Every time he thinks about their whole situation, their friendship, their childhood, it still stings as much as it did when Jughead got that text. It still hurts, like a kick in the teeth. He can’t let it go.

Archie talks to Geraldine about Jughead, and his childhood with him. He tells her that he really feels wrong about this, and that he wishes he had handled it differently. He can tell as he speaks, vulnerable and asking for her help, that she’s only half listening and only half interested. She just puts her hand on his chest and nips at his earlobe, whispering sweet nothings and forcing Archie to forget about his problems. Archie wants to talk about it; he _needs_ to talk about it, and he can’t help but think Geraldine is just brushing it off in order for Archie to just shut up and kiss her. It feels wrong, like a poisonous plant is growing in his stomach and wrapping around his spine. 

Archie can’t shake the feeling that this thing with Ms. Grundy, whatever it is, is losing magic on Archie’s end. He wishes he could speak to Jughead, because Jughead was someone who could offer an intellectual conversation and a few laughs, rather than a squeeze to Archie’s thigh and an empty moan. Archie was shallow for picking Grundy over Jughead, and he’s disdainful about his choice. It just feels rotten.

~

When school starts again, Jughead avoids Archie. He ducks past him in the hallways, and avoids him in the classes they have together. Archie knows that he’s being an asshole, and that he should go and apologize, or at least try to talk to Jughead. But, he can’t bring himself to do it. 

One night, Jughead does it for him. It’s too much to keep bottled up inside anymore for him, and he needed closure. Or something.

Archie is walking home, takeout from Pop’s tight in his fist, using the other hand to text Betty about biology homework. When he approaches his front door and looks up, Jughead is sitting on his stoop, his brows furrowed in resentment. “Oh. Hey Jug.” Archie deadpans, watching as Jughead stands. “Is she why you cancelled our road trip?” Archie’s cheeks heat up, and his heart starts going a mile a minute. “Who? Who are you-“ “Grundy. I saw you two. I know.” 

Jughead was never supposed to know. _No one_ was supposed to know. 

“You’re dumber than I thought, Andrews. Did you really think no one would ever find out?” The words rise like bile in the back of Jughead’s throat. Three months of pent up anger and sadness was coming out. Now.

“Well, I wasn’t exactly _hoping_ anyone would find out.” Jughead sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying to make sense of this whole situation. “So, let me get this straight. You ditched me, your best friend, to spend a weekend fucking a teacher?” “It’s not like that.” Archie sighs, gathering his thoughts. “And is that what this is about? That we never went on our road trip? God, Jughead. You’re not the centre of the universe.” Jughead grimaces. “We’d been planning that road trip since eighth grade, Archie. You cancelled on me for a girl, a teacher at that, who you’ve known for a few months! We’ve been friends for years!” Archie rolled his eyes. “What do you want me to say? Sorry? Sorry that we never went on some dumb road trip? You don’t know anything about me, Jughead. Not anymore. I’ve changed, you haven’t.” Jughead feels hot tears brimming his eyes. “Fuck you, Archie.” 

Jughead shoves Archie’s shoulder as he walks down the cold, dark street back to the drive-in. The tears are falling, creating long streams down his cheeks as he thinks about the encounter he’s just had with his best friend. Former best friend, now. He spends another night sleepless, staring up at the ceiling of the old movie house, letting the cold settle into his bones. 

Archie doesn’t sleep either. He knows he’s in the wrong. He knows it’s wrong to be in a relationship with a woman twice his age. It’s not fun anymore, it’s just dirty and kind of weird. Geraldine doesn’t want anything from him except for sex, when when he thinks about it, he feels cheap. He knows he’s being, and has been, unfair to Jughead. He’s probably fucked their friendship up for good this time, but he also knows he deserves it. Archie has made his bed, now he has to lay in it, eyes open wide.

The next few weeks are not easy for either boy. Jughead is immensely lonely and sad, as much as he pretends he isn’t. Occasionally he’ll sit with Betty at Pop’s and let her talk at him, nodding as Betty goes on and on about Veronica, just for something to do. Archie skips football practice nearly every day, and doesn’t work on his music. He doesn’t write any lyrics, because the poetry that was once easily there is gone. Beautiful rhythms and beats don’t fit together correctly. Everything he writes or strums sounds like a cacophony. 

Archie and Grundy get found out. Jughead feels smug, like he’s finally won against Archie. He knew he was right. He knew everything would blow up in Archie’s face. He doesn’t feel bad for Grundy, at all, considering in his mind (and rightfully so) she was the perpetrator. She went after Archie. He almost wishes he wasn’t so happy about it, because more than anything, he wishes he could offer Archie support instead. 

**jughead** sorry about grundy  
**jughead** i told you so 

Read: 11:02 PM 

~

Jughead notices the next day how Archie’s shoulders slump. He’d spent the whole morning in principal Weatherbee’s office, likely getting his ear talked off about how he should have reported it and how there will be disastrous consequences for him. Jughead thinks Archie kind of deserves it, but he can’t ignore the fact that he still feels bad. He wants to scream at Archie to tell him that that it’s not his fault, and that he has a right to feel manipulated and abused, but it’s not his place anymore. His emotions are conflicting, but he can feel his angry facade fall to the ground. He still knows he was right, and he still knows Archie was the one who was the asshole, but he can feel his grudge slipping away slowly, but surely.

Archie is feeling like his heart has sunk to the bottom of the ocean. He hasn't slept for longer than a few hours at a time in weeks. He keeps thinking about Geraldine, and then about Jughead. Back to Geraldine. Back to Jughead. His mind was racing, and whenever he thought about Jughead for too long, his stomach burned. He really fucked everything up. Even if he tried to apologize, he knew Jughead wouldn’t accept it. 

Sitting in his bedroom and staring at the ceiling for days allows Archie some time to be introspective. He knows now that his relationship with Grundy really was wrong, and he can see how it must have looked through Jughead’s eyes. His body aches as he thinks of how badly he had betrayed Jughead. He lays in his bed, all of this energy going to a plan to apologize to him. Somehow, some way, he had to fix this. 

Later in the evening on a Wednesday night, Jughead hears a knock on the door of the drive-in office over the sound of the pouring rain. He stiffens, sure not to make any moves. If it were the police, he would have a lot of explaining to do. If it was his dad, he would have to muster some energy to argue; energy that he did not have. But, worst of all, if it was Archie, he’d have to face him. They’d have to talk. 

Of course, when he opens the door, he sees a soaking wet Archie Andrews. His eyes are red, his face slick with rain, and his chest was heaving as if he had just run a marathon. “Hi.” “Hi.”

“Since when are you living here?” Archie asks, stepping in and smelling rotting wood, feeling the creaky floor boards under his feet. Jughead sighs, leaving the door open, sitting down on his bed. “Since earlier this summer. You know, when I left my dad’s. If you had seen me this in the past few months, you probably would have known.” Archie feels a familiar tightness in his chest. “How did you find me?” “Betty. She knows everything.” Jughead scoffs. “Yeah. I’ve talked to her more than I’ve talked to you these past few weeks.” “I know, I-“ “It’s cool, Arch. Whatever.” Jughead averts his eyes from Archie’s. The silence is deafening. “Are you here for anything important? Or just to make me feel worse?” Archie takes a deep breath. “I need to say something to you.” 

“I’m sorry I cancelled on you on the fourth of July weekend. I’m sorry I spent the weekend with Grundy instead, and I’m sorry I lied about it. About everything.” Jughead clenches his jaw. “Is that it?” Archie feels his eyes well with tears, blinking them away. “You don’t have to forgive me. I just needed you to know that I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” Jughead looks right into Archie’s eyes, his own anger hot in his throat. He wants to rip Archie a new one, but for some reason, his hurtful words taste like coarse salt. Archie gets up to leave, but Jughead stands and grabs his wrist lightly. Archie turns around. “You made me feel like shit, Arch. I sat up all night, for weeks, and thought that I had lost you to some woman who was twice your age. You were my best friend, I thought you had fucking abandoned me.” Archie bites his lip. “I did. I abandoned you. I let a girl get between us, a girl who wanted to hurt me, and didn’t really want anything of value from me. I let that happen, and I let my best friend slip away in the process. I know I made the wrong decision. It seemed right at the time… I don’t know how, but it did.” Archie’s voice is choked with emotion. 

Jughead knows Archie. He knows he doesn’t deserve an apology. He knows Archie made mistakes that are unforgivable. So, why does Jughead feel the need to say that it’s all ok? That he’s ready to listen? That he’s ready to forgive and fall back into Archie and wrap him in a hug that he doesn’t deserve?

“Like I said, you don’t have to forgive me. I don’t expect you to.” Jughead lets Archie’s arm go, wringing his hands together and watching his knuckles go white. “I forgive you, I guess. Not fully.” Archie’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows thickly. “Really?” Jughead swallows his pride. “You owe me. Big time. You owe me a road trip.” Archie lets out a shaky breath. “Can we start with a burger? My treat.” Jughead nods, grabbing his jacket off of the hook. “It’ll do. I suppose we have catching up to do.” Archie’s cheeks heat up, as his grin splits his face in two. “I have _so much_ to tell you.”

~

It’s almost too easy to fall back into a conversation with Archie. He nearly forgets their big argument, and how shitty Archie had made him feel in the past few months. He sits across from the redheaded boy, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. Just then, Jughead realizes how tired he looks. The bags under Archie’s eyes are deep set, his skin looking dull. “Have you been sleeping?” Archie stops sipping at his milkshake. “Not… really. Have you?” Jughead shakes his head. “Nah. But you can’t tell with me.” Archie takes the slight dig, leaning back in his seat. “I lost a lot of sleep thinking about… us? I guess.” Jughead feigns pride. “Wow. I’m _so_ flattered.” 

“I really am sorry I fucked everything up. I don’t know how I survived the whole summer without you, especially with all the crazy stuff that happened. I really needed you, I don’t know why I pushed you away.” Jughead sighs, suddenly becoming very interested in one of the leftover fries on his plate. “It was shitty of you to do, I’m not gonna lie. I guess it’s okay for now. You’re on thin ice, Andrews. Don’t forget it.” Jughead’s lips quirk up at the edge and there’s an unspoken agreement between the two boys. He wishes he didn’t have such a soft spot for Archie. It’s a soft spot that he’s had for years, and Jughead considers it a weakness.

Archie is forever grateful for Jughead’s friendship, and his forgiving nature. Archie knows he doesn’t deserve it, and he’s not gonna let it slip away from him any time soon. Jughead is good at second chances, but not third ones. He writes four songs when he gets home, and still manages to sleep a solid eight hours. Jughead doesn’t feel as cold as he usually does when he goes to bed that night.

~

They spend time together at school again; in the lounge, with Betty and Veronica, and Jughead sits in the stands while Archie has football practice. He writes, the words flowing onto the digital sheet of paper like a smooth stream. Jughead writes about Archie, about Betty, even what little he knows about Veronica. He has a solid group of friends now that he’s made up with Archie. He and Veronica even have plans to go to Pop’s on Thursday after school and do math homework together. Just the two of them.

He looks up and sees Archie waving him onto the field, signalling that he’s done with his practice. He packs up his laptop and meets Archie, exchanging the usual small talk. It’s nearing the end of October now, and the trees in Riverdale were turning vibrant oranges and reds, and the nip in the air was cooler than it had been just yesterday. The sky is painted deep orange, and the setting sun shines on Archie’s cheeks and nose. Jughead doesn’t mind walking Archie home after practice, because chances are he’s got nothing better to do (and because he gets to hang out with Archie). 

“So, when are you gonna stay the night at my house?” Archie asks, and Jughead tenses. “When you invite me, I guess.” Archie sighs uncomfortably. “I told my dad about your… situation…” “Archie, I told you not to. I don’t want pity from your family.” Archie sighs. “It’s not pity, Jug. You’re homeless. We have an extra bedroom, with a real bed and a closet and a place for you to put your stuff. It’s the least I could do. Especially after all the shit that I did to you over the summer.” Jughead sighs. “I hate taking handouts. You know that.” “I do… but the drive in is closing soon-“ “Don’t remind me.” “-and you can't go back to living with your dad. Especially not when we have a spot for you. Plus, my dad still feels bad about… what happened with your dad… and everything. He wants you there as much as I do. Which is a lot.”

Jughead mulls it over. Honestly, Archie owes him (still), and he is offering, inviting him even. He is also making it awfully clear that he wants him there. Archie’s eyes shine bright with a hopeful twinkle as he searches Jughead’s face for an answer. Jughead makes a mental note to write about it sometime.

“Yeah, alright. I’d love to stay, if you’ll have me.” 

~

Jughead is set to “move in” the night after the Twilight drive-in closes for good. Archie misses the final movie at the drive in to get Jughead’s room ready, washing and changing the sheets. He clears out the closet for Jughead to have a place to put his clothes. The whole room smells of lemon cleaning supplies and laundry detergent. Archie even puts a bouquet of fresh flowers that he picked up on his way home on the nightstand. They remind him of his mom, and how she was always so thoughtful with these kind of things. She always knew what to leave out, what to offer people when they came over, and how to be a good host. Some of it had rubbed off on Archie, but she always remembered the things that he forgot. It’s been a while since he called, and he makes a mental note to call soon.

He assumed his dad was going to be out with Hermione for a while after the movie, so he slaved away in the kitchen to make mac and cheese and a salad. It’s the only meal he remembers how to make fully, since his mom taught him years ago. Archie even changes his shirt, tidying up his own room just in case they wanted to spend some time up there. His room is not nearly as clean as it should be, and the musty teenage boy smell is masked with a ‘fresh cotton’ air freshener. It works for now.

Jughead grabs as much stuff as he can from the drive in, which really isn’t much of anything. He leaves some things, like his clock radio and an old poster from the comic store, and it hurts to leave things behind. He honestly wishes that he could move in with his dad, and that he didn’t drink so much or start throwing punches when Jughead commented on it. Things will be better at the Andrews’, though, and he really kind of is getting tired of the horrible smells in here. 

He leaves the drive-in for the last time and foots his way to Archie’s, approaching with sore knees and beads of sweat dripping down his temples. As he wipes them away, he takes in the look of Archie’s house. There’s so much room, with warm, inviting lights. He can see Archie in the kitchen with a towel over one shoulder, wiping down the table and putting out two plates. Archie opens the door before Jughead can even knock. 

He shows Jughead to his room after he toes off his shoes. Jughead still feels kind of sheepish and out of place in Archie’s house, like an intruder in a foreign space. The room that Archie is offering him is warmly lit, with a soft bed and a basket of essentials on the pillow. It’s right next to Archie’s room. “Have you ever considered hospitality as a career, Archie? You would probably make an incredible hotel maid.” Archie rolls his eyes and hits Jughead’s shoulder lightly, giving it a squeeze. “I made dinner.” Jughead looks over his shoulder at Archie knowingly. “I rest my case.” “Shut up.”

Jughead sheds his jacket and hangs it on the hook by the door when they go back downstairs, and they sit at the table in Archie’s kitchen as he spoons some food onto his plate. It’s steaming, and Jughead feels like he’s died and gone to heaven. The domesticity of it almost hurts because he thinks of his mom, and how good of a cook she was. They would have a family dinner at least once a week, and they were happy to spend time together. All of them, under one roof. It seems like a distant memory now.

They eat in silence. It’s on the verge of awkward, Jughead’s thoroughly enjoying his food and Archie trying to read what Jughead is feeling. “You can stay for as long as you want.” Archie says jarringly, and lets his eyes meet Jughead’s as Jughead looks up. “I appreciate it, Archie. Thanks for having me.” Back to silence. 

Jughead washes the dishes after dinner while Archie puts the leftovers in a container for his dad to have later. “Do you wanna go upstairs? Maybe listen to some music, or something?” Jughead nods, putting the last dish away in the cabinet and following Archie up the stairs into his bedroom. 

Jughead sits on Archie’s bed, back against the wall as he takes in Archie’s room. There’s clothes piled everywhere, his guitar on the stand and sheet music in messy piles on his dresser. It’s so teenage, so boyish, and Jughead remembers sitting in here in middle school and having this room look so much bigger. Archie puts on a record, sitting on his bed beside Jughead. Their shoulders are touching, because Archie’s bed is actually quite small. Jughead wonders how he hasn’t grown out if it.

“Have you managed to forgive me yet?” Archie asks, his eyes scanning over Jughead. Jughead sighs, letting his head hit the wall behind him. “I’m on my way, Arch. The mac and cheese definitely helped your case.” The two boys share an awkward laugh. “It’ll take me a while, though. I don’t re-trust easily. With my dad, and stuff, you know.” Archie huffs softly. “I get that. I feel so bad about what happened, really.” “I know, Archie. I know you’re trying. So am I.” Archie’s smile is warm, happy, and he feels like he knows Jughead again.

They talk until midnight. Archie is laying down on his pillows, hands behind his head. Jughead is sitting at the end of Archie’s bed, thumbing through a book he finds. “Have you talked to your dad?” Archie’s tone is soft, and Jughead almost drops the book. His jaw clenches, air feeling heavy. “Yeah, I talked to him a few days ago.” “How is he?” “Fine. He still hates when I’m around, which doesn’t feel, like, great.” He lets out an empty laugh. “Yeah. I get that.” “What about your mom? Does she like Chicago?” Archie sits up. “Probably. I haven’t really talked with her.” Jughead watches Archie as he lets out a deep sigh. “I miss her.” “I miss my mom too. A lot.” They both give each other silent, knowing smiles.

Archie doesn’t know when he fell asleep, just that he wakes up at 3:00 in the morning with a blanket covering his bottom half and his jeans still on. His eyes are bleary, and Jughead is nowhere to be seen. The static sound of the record player is still floating into Archie’s ears. He gets up, pulling off his jeans and his t-shirt. He picks the needle up off of the record and pads into the bathroom, splashing his face with warm water and running his toothbrush over his teeth quickly. He hears soft snores coming from the door that is slightly ajar, adjacent to his own. He opens it slightly, his heart decompressing when he sees Jughead.

His hat is hung on the bed post, holding one pillow to his chest and one under his head. His body moves under the covers as he breathes, his raven hair spread out across the pillow. His laptop is on the floor beside him, screen still illuminated, meaning he probably only went to sleep less than an hour ago. Archie leaves Jughead to sleep (God knows he needs it), and goes back to his own room, where he falls back asleep quickly. 

~

Jughead wakes up to the aroma of maple syrup and coffee, and he can hear Archie strumming his guitar softly in his bedroom. Jughead throws the duvet back and grabs his toothbrush from his bag. He goes to the bathroom and takes in his appearance. His dark circles are already dissipating after only one sleep in that supremely comfortable bed. He’s warm inside, stripping himself of his clothes and jumping in the shower. 

The hot water feels so good against his skin as he scrubs away, his fingers running through his hair and washing out all the dirt and oil. Beads of water slide over his shoulders and back as he exhales, inhaling the smell of the shampoo he was using. It had been a while since he’d had a good shower; one that wasn’t at the gym or in the locker room after hours. He could certainly get used to this. 

When he gets up, he knocks on Archie’s door softly. Archie drops the guitar on his bed and tells him to come in. Jughead just wraps his head around the corner of the door. “Morning.” “Morning. How did you sleep?” Jughead sighs blissfully. “Great, thanks. How about you?” “Good. How was the first night?” Jughead laughs, throwing his head back. “It’s not like I'm at summer camp, mom.” Archie laughs. “I’m assuming that means “it was fine Archie, thanks for asking!” Jughead sighs out a tired laugh. Archie stands up, meeting Jughead at the door frame. “My dad is making pancakes. You down?” Jughead smiles. “When have I ever not been down for pancakes?” 

Jughead thoroughly enjoys meals with the Andrews. They remind him of the times where he’d come over to Archie’s after school and sit in on family dinner, feeling slightly out of place but still welcomed. He laughs at all of Fred’s jokes, and Archie always eats way too much bacon. Jughead feels so much love for this family, and he can’t imagine now why he wouldn't have taken their invitation to stay. It feels weird to think he might have been sleeping in the school’s newspaper office right now, sneaking into the locker rooms to take a shower before dawn and then having to sit in Pop’s all day as to not get caught or to raise suspicion. 

After breakfast, they just hang out around the house, everyone doing their own things. Jughead writes, words flowing better than they ever had before. He fills up three pages of his novel in two hours. Archie scrawls lyrics onto a crumpled sheet, stopping intermittently to strum some chords. Vegas sits with them on the couch, and they get up every hour or so to play with him outside and get some fresh air. There’s a comforting togetherness in Archie’s living room on that Sunday afternoon.

~

Things really start to look up for the two boys. Jughead gets another job, at the record store no less. Archie writes and writes and writes, and they spend almost every night in Archie’s bedroom listening to music and just chatting. They're bonding, and it’s kind of hard for Jughead to imagine that about 6 months ago, he couldn’t have cared less if Archie got hit by a car. Now, he can’t imagine a life without him. They’re literally always together, attached at the hip. Betty says that they’re a packaged deal, and honestly, it’s not far from the truth. 

Everything is going swell. Perfectly, even. Until one Tuesday night, when they’re sitting in Archie’s room, like usual, Archie laying in his bed. Jughead is in Archie’s chair, flopped over in a way that Archie can’t imagine is very comfortable. Jughead’s eyes catch Archie’s, and Jughead swears he can feel his heart fall into his stomach. Something about the way Archie looks is making Jughead’s chest fill with warmth. His face is soft, cheekbones prominent in the dim lighting. His hair is shaggy, his black t-shirt tight around his chest and arms. 

He used to able to ignore this feeling when it came to Archie, because this was definitely not the first occurrence. From middle school on, the soft spot that Jughead had for Archie could have been classified as a crush by some. A crush that never went away. The rush of blood to his cheeks, the clenching of his jaw as he felt sweat beads form at his hairline under his hat… it was all familiar.

_This is a crush. This is how a crush makes you feel._

“You okay?” Archie asks, because obviously Jughead has zoned out while staring right at Archie. He must have looked fucking insane. “Yeah. Fine. I think I might need to go to bed.” Jughead darts out of the room, and Archie just watches him leave. 

Archie takes a shower, and when he comes back he sees his phone lighting up with texts.

**jughead** sorry for just leaving like that  
**jughead** i think i just need to be alone for a bit  
**jughead** goodnight arch 

**archie** goodnight jug. hope everything’s alright 

Read: 11:39 PM 

Everything is certainly not alright. Despite their history, despite these past months, despite it all, Jughead has a crush. It’s rising like bile in the back of his throat, and it burns when he thinks about it. He’s not supposed to have a crush on Archie. Remember the road trip? Remember Grundy? Remember how he ditched you?

He tried to repress it. This time, it wasn’t working.

~

He wakes up the next morning, feeling slightly better, until he remembers last night. He bids Archie good morning, acting as normally as he can. “Were you okay last night?” Archie looks genuinely concerned, and Jughead nods to put Archie at ease. “Yeah. I just needed some time to myself I guess.” He gestures vaguely to his surroundings. “Still adjusting.” Archie nods solemnly, a hand on his shoulder. Electricity travels from Archie’s hand into Jughead’s veins as he offers a sympathetic smile. 

They go to school, Jughead stealing glances when he can. Archie chats with every girl he meets, and although they’ve talked explicitly about sexualities (Archie confessing he’s been bisexual since ninth grade, whispered to Jughead in the quiet secrecy of the middle of the night), Jughead could swear that he was the straightest boy alive. He had a way with girls; an heir of confidence and warmth when he talked to them. It made Jughead feel like he stood no chance. 

What Jughead doesn’t know, is that Archie had been stealing glances of Jughead ever since he’d moved in. When he wakes up in the middle of the night, going to the bathroom to grab a glass of water, he always checks in on Jughead. He watches his chest rise and fall for just a few seconds, not allowing himself any more time.

At school, he watches Jughead type away in the library by himself, plugged in and listening to whatever music he likes. He watches Jughead in math class, tapping his fingers on his desk and letting his head fall into the other hand. He notices the way his eyes light up when he talks to Betty, obviously sharing crime theories or having a heated conversation about something that Archie can’t really follow. He just watches intently. 

As time passes, they both get better and better at hiding their crushes for each other. Jughead writes about Archie’s freckles, about his eyes, about the curve of his hips and the dips of cheekbones. Archie writes love songs (which Veronica is belligerent about knowing the stories behind), all about Jughead and their past. They kind of make Archie’s heart hurt, because he looks up at Jughead, sitting on the end of his bed, looking so warm and home-y, wearing a sweatshirt that’s too big for him and scribbling notes into his biology book. Jughead flashes Archie smile when he feels his eyes on him, pretending he doesn’t want to lean over and kiss him right then and there. 

~

One night, Jughead’s feelings get the better of him. Most of the time he has no issues sleeping, but tonight everything feels wrong. No sleeping position is comfortable. He just wants to lay in his bed, stare at the ceiling, and think about Archie. He lets himself indulge in the thoughts that come along with having crush on Riverdale’s golden boy, just for the a little while before he gives in to sleep. He thinks about Archie’s chest, and how much he wants to lay against his pectoral muscles and listen to his heart beat. He thinks about how good his calloused, dry hands would feel scratching at the nape of his neck. He thinks about how warm his lips would be, flush against Jughead’s as they sat on his bed and kissed until the sun came up. It makes his stomach hurt with how much he wanted it.

The clock beside the bed says 2:34 AM, and he wonders what Archie’s doing right now. He thinks that maybe, since he probably isn’t going to sleep anyways, he’ll go downstairs and make himself a cup of tea. He only ever drinks chamomile. His mom used to make it for him when he couldn’t sleep, and to this day, it’s the only remedy to his insomniac tendencies.

When he’s downstairs, he flicks on a light and fills the kettle, setting it on the stove. He scratches his head, yawning, and leaning over the kettle and feeling the steam on his cheek. He puts the tea bag in, hearing the kettle start to squeal. He pulls it off before it can get any louder, and right then, he hears footsteps near the front door. When he spins around, he sees Archie, a shadowed figure in the faint light. “Jesus, Arch, you scared the shit out of me.” Archie looks apologetic, stepping closer tentatively. Archie has chosen a pair of plaid pyjama pants and grey t-shirt, and something about that makes Jughead’s heart warm. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“Couldn’t sleep?” Archie asks, Jughead pouring a cup of tea for the other boy. “Nah. You?” “Nope.” Archie leans on the edge of the island across from Jughead, holding the tea in his hand. Jughead takes in Archie’s sleepy, disheveled look. He thinks that he’s breathtaking, despite the toothpaste stain on his t-shirt and the smell of Archie’s leftover cologne from yesterday still clinging to his skin. 

Jughead is exhausted, but Archie loves the way he looks anyways. His hair was getting long, and especially since he wasn’t wearing his hat, it looked especially wavy and free. Archie felt his heart soften like butter. 

Somehow, both boys still look perfectly lit in Archie’s kitchen, illuminating only the high points of their faces. “I forgive you, by the way. Everything’s good.” Archie nods, feeling accomplished. “I think I’ll be paying you back forever, Jug. Thanks for the peace of mind anyways.” Jughead shrugs his shoulders, sipping his tea and then putting it down on the counter. He takes a deep breath. The darkness and the assumed secrecy of the middle of the night gives him confidence he just can’t find in the daylight. He looks at Archie, Archie’s eyes flicking between Jughead’s eyes and his lips. 

“Archie, I really have to tell you something.” The words come out in one solid string, no pauses taken. Archie advances forward, only inches away from Jughead. Jughead looks up, ready to say what he was going to say, the words on the tip of his tongue. Instead, Archie connects their lips. Jughead swallows his words as he registers what’s happening, his eyes blown out wide.

_Holy shit. He’s kissing Archie Andrews. Archie Andrews is kissing him._

He finally starts to kiss back, his chest meeting the fabric of Archie’s t-shirt. Archie is still warm from his bed when Jughead grabs onto his t-shirt, scrunching the fabric in his fist. Archie’s hand ghosts over Jughead’s jaw and he uses his thumb to rub over one of his sun spots on his cheek. They both melt together like chocolate, Jughead completely pressing himself against Archie as Archie lets his lips detach from Jughead.

Jughead lets out a shaky breath into Archie’s mouth, his head still in Archie’s hands as he lets his eyes fall closed once again. Archie tilts Jughead’s head back up, letting his face soften as he watches the other boy. Jughead lets out a breathless laugh. “I wasn’t…” “I know… I’m-“ “Don’t. Don’t be sorry.” Archie starts to giggle. “Can I-“ “Yes. Please.”

Jughead’s arms move from Archie’s chest to his shoulders, where they wrap around his neck and allow Jughead to move against Archie’s lips. Jughead may be taller, but Archie’s bigger in build, which means his grasp as he wraps his arms around Jughead’s waist is more forceful. Jughead doesn’t mind at all, his body flush against Archie’s as they kiss in the moonlight.

Their lips dance together for a little while, just enjoying the feeling of being together, and being close. Jughead tastes like hot tea, and Archie tastes like mint toothpaste and smells of his shampoo. Something to each boy feels so right, and they move together perfectly in sync. 

Jughead is the one to pull away this time, loosening his grip around Archie just enough to cup his face. “That was perfect.” Archie silently agrees, his hands dropping to grab Jughead’s. “Would you… want to… sleep in my bed tonight?” Jughead feels the tension release from his body. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds… nice.”

Archie leads Jughead up the stairs and into his room, where they situate themselves on Archie’s bed. His bed is even more comfortable than the spare bed, mostly just because Archie's in it. Jughead immediately buries his head in Archie’s chest, smelling his t-shirt and letting Archie’s strong arms completely envelop him. He feels Archie’s breathing slow as he dozes off, and Jughead smiles into the fabric of Archie’s t-shirt as he thinks of where he is. Legs intertwined with Archie’s, knobby knees bumping into strong football-player thighs, and the open window letting in a comforting draft that is keeping him at a perfect temperature. He feels himself doze off too, and he lets his mind wander.

In some sort of twisted way, Jughead thinks that not going on their fourth of July road trip was a blessing in disguise. Would he be in Archie's room right now, cuddled up against his chest and feeling Archie's soft breaths on his forehead if they had gone? If this whole summer, even with all the fucked up stuff that happened, hadn't happened, where would he be right now? Here, still? Home?

Jughead knows. He knows that home was never his dad’s trailer, where the yelling never ceased and he hid in the closet, his own sobbing drowning the sounds out. Home was never the drive in, with the rotting wall panels and rickety bed frame. Home wasn’t even the spare bed at the Andrews household, with the thick blue comforter and bouquet of tulips on the night table.

Home was Archie.

**Author's Note:**

> i know this fic is already hella long so i'll keep this short but thanks for reading!! feel free to leave comments/kudos/anything!! <3


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